Like This
by ASecretHistory
Summary: A series of oneshots of missing scenes or thoughts out of various episodes of Suits. Darvey.
1. Chapter 1 S01E07 Play The Man

**LIKE THIS: CHAPTER 1**

 **Author's Note - Welcome:**

Hey guys! So, this "story" is more going to be a series of non-consecutive oneshots of missing scenes or thoughts from various episodes of Suits. Entirely Darvey slanted. I'm writing it like this mainly because I don't want to be constricted by something silly like the linear nature of time … Just the same, I hope you enjoy!

 **Author's Note:**

This oneshot takes place during S01E07 Play The Man, in which Mike embarrasses everyone by losing his mock trial, and Scottie casually informs Harvey that she was engaged, like, the whole time.

 **S01E07 Play The Man**

He watched Mike leave and sighed internally. Honestly, this kid was going to stuff the mock trial up so spectacularly at this rate that Harvey thought even _he_ might feel embarrassed. Completely unprepared, no client, no witness …

"Jesus," Harvey muttered to himself, getting irritably to his feet. Sometimes he thought having an associate was more trouble than it was worth, and now he was going to have to try and help. Like he had time for this sort of thing.

Donna was typing up a memo as Harvey sauntered up to her from his office.

"Hey," he muttered, leaning towards her on his forearms.

"Hm?" she said vaguely, not looking up.

"You playing a witness for anyone yet?"

She froze, and then turned to frown at him.

" _No_ ," she said firmly, in a tone that told him quite clearly that she wasn't answering his question, but refusing his request.

"Come on, Donna. You heard him; he's completely unprepared," he hissed, glancing furtively around. He didn't need the world knowing he was trying to help Mike.

"Not my problem," Donna was retorting. "I play for winners."

This was a fair enough point, one he of all people couldn't exactly argue. So, he took a tack he knew would work.

"Well, he's my associate, and how he does reflects on me and by extension on you, so…"

There was a brief battle of wills as they glared at each other.

"Ugh, fine," she snapped in exasperation after a few seconds, rolling her eyes.

He smiled at her, but her attention was back on her monitor.

"Thanks. I owe you one," he said instead.

"He'd better not lose, or you're gonna owe me a whole lot more," she said haughtily.

"He won't lose now that he has you," Harvey said with a smirk. Donna deeply appreciated flattery, regardless of who was delivering it or, frankly, its sincerity.

She turned back to him, matching his smirk.

"Shoes," she said sweetly.

It was Harvey's turn to roll his eyes.

"Fine," he grunted. "This weekend. But that's win or lose, no added benefits if he screws up."

"Deal."

She was lost in her memo again, a self-satisfied quirk to her lips, so Harvey made sure to let loose a token sigh of resignation. It was pointless, really. He always enjoyed shopping with her - as unlikely as that may have seemed - and they both knew it.

Shopping with Donna was an experience all its own, with him as _her_ audience for once as she swept through the store with the swift expertise of a collector, declaring her final choice with a glowingly regal air. She never took too long, never dithered over her decisions and never asked for his opinion. She merely selected the item as though she were doing _it_ the favour of granting it the luxury of being possessed by her. An accurate outlook, as far as Harvey was concerned, because Donna made everything look better for adorning her.

The customary breakfast that accompanied these outings was always a lot more leisurely, Donna picking from a handful of her favourite places, where they would sip sultry coffee over exquisite meals of her decree, while making fun of the people passing the windows and catching up on office gossip. Then she would order something decadently sweet "to split", but he would merely take his dutiful single bite and she would savour the rest.

The expenses that came with these mornings were more than worth the hazy warmth of a meal with a close friend with whom he could drop all barriers, a thoroughly unique experience in Harvey's world. Occasionally, if it had been too long since the last morning, he would find a reason to owe her a shopping expedition just for the excuse for her company. He did that sometimes in the evenings, too, when he would erroneously inform her that he absolutely needed to get a jump on a case that required her help, just for the hours of easy conversation in the dark deserted office, the lights of the city a friendly backdrop to their bickering over what take out to get.

In theory, they could simply spend time together without pretences, but they walked a careful line between what they were and what they could be, and nobody understood better than Harvey the dangers of even brushing up against that line. Like a careful chemical balance, they had to be sure that no single drop of temptation disturb their equilibrium, because it would take very little for it to go bubbling out of control. So they played their roles and partook in their rituals, with a stable façade of formality and yet not a moment of second guessing what they truly were to each other.

x x x

"Okay, what's wrong?"

He started out of his thoughts and turned his attention back to Donna. She had finished the last of her almond custard crème croissant of decadence, or whatever the hell it was called, and was staring critically at him.

"Nothing," he said automatically, a pointless delay in the end. She cocked her head in that knowing way she had, and he knew that the time had come. In truth, he had been wanting to tell her about everything that had happened with Scotty and had planned to bring it up this morning. But the morning, her company, it had all been too pleasant and he hadn't wanted to spoil the outing by releasing the cold darkness sitting in his chest.

"Fine," he said. "I was going to wait for another time, but I guess it's on my mind."

"It's to do with Scotty, isn't it?"

He nodded gloomily.

"She's getting married," he began, but then realised he was unable to vocalise the rest. He half opened his mouth, then let out a puff of air and shook his head in exasperation at himself.

"Wait, what?"

He focussed his attention onto her and was relieved to see that she looked as horrified as he felt. Immediately, he felt better, a sort of release.

"She told me last night."

"But, you …" she paused there, allowing the implication to present itself, then closed her eyes and let out her own breath. "God, I'm sorry, Harvey."

"Yeah," he muttered. After an extended moment where they simply looked at each other, he finally voiced the things he knew Donna already knew. "I just can't believe she didn't say anything. That she let me … I mean, what does that make me?"

"Nothing, Harvey. You did nothing wrong."

"Bet he'd disagree."

"You didn't know."

"I should have known."

"How?"

The conversation had progressed into a kind of feverish exchange, as though they were following some pre-ordained script at top speed, leaning towards each other, elbows on the table, eyes locked and the rest of the world gone.

"I should have figured it out."

"Because you can read minds?"

"You would have known."

"Maybe not."

"Please."

"She should have told you."

"Yeah, I know, but-"

"But nothing. It's on her, not you."

"I don't want to be this guy."

"You're not this guy."

"I'm complicit."

"No, you're not, and you know it."

"Maybe. It still feels shit."

The locomotive exchange fizzled down to a standstill.

"I'm sure it does," she said gently, and he felt another gnawing sensation in his stomach. He leaned back again as though dodging away from a burn and watched her closely.

"It's not about … her getting married," he said carefully.

She said nothing and he frowned at her.

"Donna-"

"Look," she interrupted. "I get why you're upset. She betrayed you, made you do something that goes against everything you are. But let me ask you this … did you confront her about it?"

He swallowed back his retort and simply stared at her.

"No. Because you weren't just angry. You were sad, too."

There was a longer silence now as he contemplated her point and then tried to scramble together a response. All that came out was a clumsy, "I'm not in love with Scotty."

Donna gave a smooth shrug and a kind smile.

"I'm not saying you are. I'm just saying that what you are to each other means something to you, and now you're losing part of that relationship. That's sad, and that's okay."

He wanted to dismiss this train of thought completely, but somehow the magic of the morning allowed him to accept it instead. A little.

"Anyway," said Donna at last. "I think we need to talk about how long before we can hold our heads up high again at the office, after your wonderful associate humiliated us so effectively."

Warm with gratitude at her timely subject change, Harvey gave a theatrical eye roll.

"Oh, shut up. You got your shoes.".

x x x

 **AN:** Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you thought :-)


	2. Chapter 2 S04E08 Exposure

**LIKE THIS CHAPTER 2**

 **Author's Note:**

This oneshot is more a meandering thought pattern by Donna after she told Rachel that she and Harvey had slept together. She reflects on the choices she and Harvey made in the past about their relationship.

 **S4E08: Exposure**

" _Would you have wanted a relationship with him?"_

" _I would have wanted to try._ _But he wasn't ready. And if I had pushed him to be ready, I would be sitting here talking to somebody else about somebody I used to work with a long time ago."_

" _What are you saying?"_

" _I'm saying that everything turned out the way it was supposed to."_

x x x

Rachel wasn't in the habit of questioning Donna. Donna was, after all, not only her best friend, but also _The_ Donna. And in almost every situation, she turned out to be right. But this time, Rachel wasn't sure.

After she had left and come to terms with Donna's startling revelation about having slept with Harvey after all, she found herself wondering, "Did it, Donna? Did it really turn out the way it was supposed to?"

She couldn't help but sense an edge of sadness in Donna whenever the topic came up. Just a small wisp of it leaking momentarily out with her words. A trace of mourning for something that could have been. And, while Rachel didn't presume to come close to understanding the complex relationship that existed between Donna and Harvey, she herself had a faint sense that things _weren't_ the way they should be.

That maybe Donna should have fought for him all those years ago.

Because the last thing she wanted with Mike was to settle for less than all of him. And she had little doubt that Donna and Harvey, however they chose to define themselves, cared for each other no less than she and Mike did.

x x x

Donna could see that Rachel wasn't buying it and unfortunately, explaining fully would have been far too detailed, too personal, too painful.

The simple truth of the matter was that, in moments of weakness, she occasionally did find herself wondering _what if_. What if, sitting across from each other in the little diner, when Harvey had asked her to come and work for him, she had told him no. Told him that they had crossed the line and she was not interested in a future with him that was always tainted by the tension of what they could have been.

It would have been the time to do it. Now was far too late. Their worlds, their hearts, were far too entangled to engage in such ultimatums. But back then? They had been close, yes. They had been fond of each other, certainly. But compared to now, she saw that they had had very little at stake except for a clear affinity and compatibility. Had the rejection happened back then, it would have been (relatively speaking) almost easy to move on.

It had been the time to take the risk.

"No," she would have said. "Not after last night."

"I didn't mean for last night to ruin anything," would probably have been his response, plaintive and apologetic. That intense look in his eyes traced with remorse.

"It's not what I want," she would have clarified. "Last night was just too …"

"I know," he may have assented. "It was. But so is working together."

"No," she would have said again. "It's close, but that's not what I want with you."

He would have stared hard at her, studied her.

"You're saying you want … last night? Always?"

"Yes."

And then what? What would have happened? It was usually around this point that she chided herself for entertaining the scenario. Because whatever path she followed, she always came out at the inevitable destruction of their relationship.

Quite possibly he would have said no straight away, explained that he wasn't looking for that kind of relationship in his life. His career was his priority, and he certainly wasn't going to fuck around with someone he cared about, like Donna, someone who deserved to be the priority, when he knew it wasn't what he wanted. And that would have ended in a farewell, because no matter what he may have asked of her after that, her dignity would not have allowed herself to work with someone who had openly rejected her.

But, as depressing as that story was, the alternative was likely a thousand times worse. And also, she sometimes worried, far more likely.

He would have, with some reluctance, agreed to try. Because, after all, they did have a very strong connection. They shared a similar disposition, affection and physical attraction. She guessed that the relationship may even have been quite successful for a while. But it wouldn't have lasted. Mainly, she thought, because they would have fallen far too deeply in love. It would have been inevitable. Their relationship would have grown intense, possessive, desperate.

And, perhaps had he not been so very affected by his parents' relationship, this may have grown into a passionate and rock solid marriage that was not too dissimilar, at its core, to the relationship they shared now. However, the Harvey that was damaged, the real Harvey, the one that, despite everything, she wouldn't change for the world, would have very likely been consumed with terror. And they would have ended in a chaotic mess of shattered hearts that neither one of them would have recovered from.

A horrifying scenario that she would have been unable to vocalise to a licenced therapist in confidence, let alone to Rachel. And explaining the rationale for her choice, in the end, to forgo romance for friendship – because yes, it had been as much her choice in the end as it had been his, something she had to remind herself of whenever she began to feel resentful – would have been even more difficult to express.

Because when she truly thought about it, she knew that his offer to take her with him had been as close to a lifelong commitment as he had been capable of making. That, even though it hadn't fully aligned with her desires, it had been the deepest expression of his affection for her that he could have made. Because he knew, as she did, that his life was his work. And he was asking her to be a part of his life, to shape him and evolve with him professionally, to become his partner in crime.

A recognition that she had had only an inkling of at the time, but that, in hindsight, she saw with greater and greater clarity as she got to know him better. As their friendship grew, as she learned more about him, remained his one confidante when it came to his deepest scars and greatest pleasures, she came to know that had she been any less special to him than he was to her, he _would_ have made the mistake of trying for romance.

The point was that, even though there always had been and always would be an uncomfortable undercurrent of _more_ between herself and Harvey, she very firmly believed that they had made the right choice. That for all their difficulties, she wouldn't give up what they had now for the world.

That everything _had_ turned out … exactly the way it was supposed to.

x x x

 **AN:** Thanks so much for reading! I'd love to hear what you thought :-)


	3. Chapter 3 S05E08 Mea Culpa

**LIKE THIS CHAPTER 3**

 **Author's Note:** Thanks so much for your lovely reviews! This chapter is a follow on from when Donna found that recording Louis had made of Harvey admitting to panic attacks and going to therapy, and picks up the morning after she confronts him about it. I wrote this mainly because I thought what Louis did was so very horrible that I expected much more of a backlash, and then … nothing. Suddenly everyone was friends again like nothing happened, so I decided to fill in the blanks. Well, some of them anyway.

 **S05E08 Mea Culpa**

Things were painfully uncomfortable between Donna and Louis the following morning, all shifty eyes, clipped words, dropped pens, silence. Louis seemed afraid, more than anything, and kept himself to himself in his office. As for Donna, well, the storm of emotions she was dealing with was distracting enough that she couldn't even be bothered with Louis's issues right now.

She was still vibrating with fury, a wild white anger that hummed its way from her chest down every nerve in her body, so that every movement seemed to have a split-second echo of itself, like the seemingly instantaneous shadow that follows a strike of lightning. She had never experienced a feeling quite like this before and the reason, quite frankly, was because for the first time, she had to keep an episode of rage-on-behalf-of-Harvey contained within her.

She couldn't let it out at Louis, because she knew that if she said anything else to him in the near future, it would be, "I quit, go to hell." She couldn't rant to Rachel (or anyone else) because she couldn't expose Harvey's secret. Almost worst of all, she couldn't talk to Harvey about it – even the fruit fly conducting impressive acrobatic manoeuvres to avoid her swatting hand at that moment would have been able to predict his cataclysmic reaction to such news. A reaction that she wouldn't be able to contain since, not only did Harvey no longer view her as being on his team anymore, but she suspected that she was angrier about the whole thing than he would be.

However, the absolute worst thing about the entirety of the situation was how it made her feel about herself. For the first time, she truly felt that she had made the wrong decision leaving Harvey for Louis. At some point a few months back, when things had still been fresh and raw, Harvey had demanded how she could work for someone as duplicitous as Louis. She had still been too angry to listen to much back then, and anyway, he had been yelling at her at her door in the middle of the night.

But now his words echoed back to her, the hurt disbelief in his eyes, and she knew instinctively what he had actually been trying to say. That his true sentiment had been something like: How could you work for someone who would lie and cheat rather than _me_? Does this mean you think I'm worse than that? Does this mean you think of me as a bad person, after all? Do you hate me this much?

And now, suddenly, she found that she entirely agreed with him. What _was_ she doing? She had declared herself on Louis's team … why? She had known that Harvey and Louis would always clash. Had she really thought that she could manage to support both of them? Or worse, support Louis against Harvey?

She tried to think back to when she had made her monumental decision, but it was all a hazy, miserable blur. All she could remember was feeling distinctly hurt by the realisation that, while Harvey may love her (in whichever way he loved her, it wasn't the point) he still didn't treat her as if he did. He was too afraid, and would hurt her in lieu of hurting himself. And that time, the hurt had been too much. He had declared power over her, and it wasn't the kind of equilibrium she could maintain with him.

They were supposed to be equals.

Louis was comparatively non-threatening. She was both fond and unafraid of him, and he treated her with warmth and open affection. She also knew (and she knew she should be a bit ashamed thinking like this) that _she_ held the power in her relationship with Louis, something that she had kind of needed in her life.

But now …

There was so much more rushing through her head. Harvey … had been having panic attacks? Going to a therapist? Because she had left him? It made her realise that she had had far more power over him than even she had ever dared to believe, and far from satisfying that need inside her, it made her feel sick. What had she done to him? And she hadn't even known.

That vague sense of abandoning him like that and not even realising how much she had hurt him was making her feel even more protective over him than usual. If she was completely honest with herself, at that moment what she wanted to do most was to slap Louis, resign, and hightail it straight back to Harvey, to whom she would confess everything before engaging in an elaborate vengeance plot over too much alcohol. Like the good old days.

Of course, that wasn't really an option for various reasons, not least of all being that Harvey would likely just be angry with her, too (their last conversation had not been a happy one, since she had questioned whether Harvey deserved her help, something which caused an agonised squirm of guilt in her chest), and so she was stuck aggressively typing out emails for Louis, dealing with a good deal more disappointment in herself than she usually did.

Her mind continued to buzz around these thoughts in a progressively more upsetting spiral, when all of a sudden, Harvey appeared in front of her.

"Hey," he said, looking hesitantly polite.

She hated this. Before all this, they would have continued yelling at each other until they weren't, no fight pushing further than the glass of scotch they would indulge in together in the evening. None of this shy hesitation.

"You busy?"

The uncertainty.

"Um."

The secrets.

"I could come back later."

The politeness.

"No, what is it?"

She thought she could even hear the vague hum of rage echoing her words.

She forced a smile.

He half cleared his throat, and muttered gruffly, "I just wanted to … apologise."

She blinked.

"For … what?"

He glanced uncomfortably over at Louis's office, which thankfully was Louis-free at that moment.

"He's gone to lunch," she explained. But then realised that she didn't know that for sure, having been actively ignoring him if at all possible. For all she knew, he had simply gone for a fresh bottle of prune juice and would be back at any moment. She stood up quickly and said, "Which reminds me, I'm starving."

It was grinding, trying to keep her voice light.

"Well, then allow me to treat you to a street bagel," Harvey suggested with a small smile. She could sense how forced it was as well.

"Your generosity is unparalleled."

Keeping up the pretence of two co-workers stepping casually out for a bite, they beat a hasty retreat from Louis's office and only breathed easily once Harvey had paid for their bagels and they had headed for a familiar bench around the corner.

"To answer your question," Harvey said suddenly while she was mid bite, "I'm apologising for putting you in the middle."

He looked at her. She chewed slowly, trying to get to a point where she could swallow with some dignity. He seemed to view this as an opportunity, and continued, "Sometimes it's hard for me to remember that you're loyal to Louis now, and that I can't expect you to be on my team anymore."

Despite the fact that she had known perfectly well that this was what he thought, and despite the fact that she had been actively reminding him of the fact that she worked for Louis now rather than him on a regular basis, hearing him say those words made the ground fall away beneath her.

Managing a daintier swallow than she had expected, considering the fact that she was suddenly floating groundlessly through space, she cleared her throat.

"It's … okay," were the inadequate words that tripped embarrassingly from her lips.

"No, it's not," he said with a sigh. "I've thought about it, a lot, and I know from experience how it feels to be caught in the middle. I just hope you understand … it's habit, for me to come to you when I need help. You are Donna, after all." He turned and gave her a quirky smile, but she could see the unhappiness in his eyes as well.

Panic attacks, therapist.

God, she wanted to be sick. All her walls against him had crumbled to her feet again, as though they had been nothing but dust. It was as though a different Donna, the one from six months ago, had just woken up inside her and was staring around in shock at the new reality she had found herself in.

Denial?

Finally, real words came.

"No, Harvey. We've been friends for a long time and that doesn't just go away, and …"

She thought back to the previous afternoon. When he had asked for her help.

" _What did Louis say to make you hit him?" she had asked, concern in her chest._

" _Why are you asking me that?" His voice soft but guarded._

And she had said that thing ... that she needed to know if he deserved her picking his side. That, she supposed, had been the beginning. His hurt eyes, him reminding her that she was supposed to know him well enough to know he deserved her help.

Maybe that was why she was feeling so terrible. After all, his words had been the very reason she had gone looking for whatever "dirty trick" Harvey was convinced Louis would use. The very reason she had taken the Dictaphone in the first place. He had been right, and she had been wrong. He deserved for her to take his side and she shouldn't have needed him to prove that.

And it hit her that her rage that morning was probably far more directed towards herself than Louis.

"Are you okay?" Harvey asked. He looked uncomfortable at best.

"No, I'm not," she mumbled. Then she looked directly at him.

" _I'm_ sorry, Harvey. For what I said to you yesterday."

A small crease formed on his brow.

"You don't ever have to prove to me that you deserve my help," she concluded with a small sigh.

A long silence passed between them. She was staring gloomily at a nearby tree. There was an ugly patch of rotting bark that she didn't remember from the last time she had sat on this bench, although that had been a while back. She wondered if the tree was dying.

Finally Harvey spoke again.

"Look, it doesn't matter. We're adjusting, I guess, and …"

She looked at him again. He seemed to be undergoing an immense battle to find the right words.

"And, we just need to find a new … balance. I'd still like for us to try and be friends again."

She blinked slowly. How had talking to each other become this difficult?

"Anyway, if we come right down to it, if I had just listened to you about Esther in the first place, maybe none of this would have happened."

He was trying to smile again and she tried to return it.

"Well, you certainly forgot how bad the fallout of not listening to Donna can be very quickly," she pointed out with a mock disappointed shake of her head.

"All very embarrassing," he agreed, his smile a little more genuine.

She thought how nice their dinner had been, almost approaching normal, and how they seemed to have staggered several steps backwards again since.

"I promise you," she said suddenly, "that I will make sure Louis doesn't pull any dirty tricks."

He looked surprised (Oh, God, now it was a surprise that she would defend him).

"You don't have-" he began.

"I promise," she said, cutting him off with finality.

Of course, he didn't know that she had more or less already found the dirty trick, but that wasn't the point. The point was more in the warm gratitude that shone out of his eyes and the relief that cleared the misplaced frown lines from his forehead.

"Thank you, Donna."

"You're welcome, Harvey."

x x x

"Louis."

He started and looked up at her.

"Donna, I-"

"Shut up and listen to me," she said sternly, but she worked at keeping a slight gentle cadence to her voice as well. The trick with Louis was to find the perfect balance between being forceful and lulling. "What you did, or I should say, what you _almost_ did, was one of the worst things you have ever done."

He looked down.

"But you still have a chance to make things right."

He looked back up at her.

"I know you won't use that tape," she continued, "but you need to think about what the right thing to do is, here. I know you're angry, but you need to be better than this. You need to show me," (and here, she felt her own emotion leak into her voice) "that I didn't make the wrong choice coming to you. That I am working for someone I can be proud to call my boss."

There was a long moment as they stared at each other, Louis's eyes wet with guilt, and hers wet with hurt.

Then Louis got to his feet. "I'll go and talk to Jessica," he said, looking at her, determination breaking through his shame. "I'll call off the vote."

He strode past her, but then paused and turned slightly back.

"I'm sorry, Donna," he added, his voice scratchy with regret. "I know I betrayed your trust, and it won't happen again. I can make you proud."

And he was gone.

And she was left staring out of the window and pondering the fact that after all this time, after everything that had happened, Louis had probably vocalised the dark truth of things right there better than he could have known.

The fact that she and Harvey were still linked, so inextricably, that any betrayal of Harvey would always be a betrayal of her.

x x x

 **Author's Note:** And in a similar theme to filling in blanks, I wanted to provide some motivation for Donna eventually returning to Harvey, because they pretty much glossed over that, too – particularly in terms of how _Donna_ was feeling about everything. But anyway, thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4 S03E06 The Other Time

**LIKE THIS: CHAPTER 4**

 **Author's Note:** Yes, okay, I went there. But it's not like I could ignore this episode. I went a little out there in this chapter … I think I made Harvey's feelings considerably more intense than what is traditionally accepted as likely, but I just feel like _Who even knows what the hell was going through his head?_ I hope you enjoy it just the same.

 **S03E06 The Other Time**

It was a little after three in the morning and she was fast asleep, her hair engagingly mussed and her lips moist from his mouth. He found that he couldn't stop watching her, though. Not long enough to actually fall asleep. His mind was racing and his heart was jackhammering.

He hadn't quite expected this to feel this way.

x x x

It wasn't as though he hadn't _wanted_ this. He had been attracted to her from the moment he had first seen her classic "I'm Donna" smirk. And in an unusual progression of things, his attraction had only grown in ferocity as he had gotten to know her. Over the past few weeks, he had begun to actively pursue her, the warm sparkling presence in his life that had become the highlight of his day.

And she was driving him crazy, with her flirtatious twinkle and that teasing quirk to her smile. Smart ass comments, quick-whitted comebacks. The occasional lingering over fixing his tie and the whiff of her scent when she stood too close. Her laughter was magnetic and her warmth was addictive. He couldn't remember feeling this heady over a woman since possibly his first real crush in high school. If then.

He had been a little surprised, in truth, when she had resisted his advances. After all, he had little doubt that she felt at least some attraction towards him. It was just the way of things … they were the kinds of people who were designed to desire each other. But no, she had said, she did not get involved with men that she worked with. He had only been half joking when he had "fired" her.

On the other hand, though, he truly liked working with her. It meant a lot to him to have her there for him to bounce ideas around with. She was ridiculously smart and insightful and he had lost count of the number of times she had given him the kind of perspective that would win him a case. And then there was the fun he had with her. She made work so much more enjoyable.

It was this, mainly, that had kept him from trying anything before now. Her rule was a good rule. It was just that recently, he had passed some sort of threshold, a tipping point, and he had begun to wonder how he could possibly find himself seeing her every day and yet never try for more.

She was, after all, the perfect woman.

And he was crazy about her.

x x x

It was so much better than he had ever imagined, and he hadn't spent much time trying to stop himself from imagining it.

He had stepped into her apartment, his chest bursting with anticipation, moving forward smoothly to kiss her. At that point, he had still had his head. He was still in control, cool, collected and looking forward to what would presumably be a pretty fantastic night.

They were smiling at each other … _smirking_ almost.

And then their lips met, and suddenly his world seemed to jolt off course.

Within moments, flirty became wildly intense, his arms closing immediately around her and pulling her forcefully against himself. Her hands, cool and yet searing, closed around the back of his neck. He could feel her fingertips digging into the skin at the base of his scalp and her thumbs pressed into the flesh just below his ears. He was faintly aware of the whipped cream falling to the ground.

Somehow, he hadn't taken in enough air before leaning in, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away from her after so little time and he sucked the air desperately through his nose. He heard her do the same. Felt her lips open beneath his insistent ones and his hands flew up to grasp her face tightly as his tongue went into her mouth. Suddenly he felt her slam against the wall and realised he had been pushing her backwards with his intensity.

She let out a little moan as she tried to gasp for air, but he wasn't having any of it. He gripped her cheeks and tilted her face up towards him so his tongue could get at more of hers. His body pressed firmly against her, sandwiching her between himself and the wall.

He couldn't get enough of her, couldn't let go, couldn't think of anything, _anything_ , except all of this, all of her, her, her …

x x x

The first time had happened almost immediately, desperate and giddy and up against the wall, clothes only partially removed as required. He had felt something like when one takes a sip of water without realising one is dying of thirst, and suddenly there is no stopping the frenetic gulping until there's nothing left. A chaotic experience, it had nonetheless surpassed any previous sexual experiences by miles.

It had taken them some time to come down from it and he could tell that the passion of it all had taken her by surprise as well. They avoided eye contact a little. He felt flushed and vulnerable, taken aback by the power of his desire for her. They straightened their dishevelled clothing a little, pulling up pants and such.

Luckily, she was highly gifted at managing uncomfortable situations, and she managed to change the tone pretty quickly back to light and playful, retrieving the whipped cream and saying teasingly, "Oops, we forgot a vital element in this whole interaction."

He tried to think of something witty to say, but his brain was still trying to regroup.

She popped the lid off, waved it suggestively in front of his face and then squeezed a small amount onto the tip of her tongue. Then she raised her eyebrows at him, holding the can towards him. He took it with a smile and then squirted a bit onto the tip of her nose.

Her surprise pleased him and her grin was infective. He chuckled and felt suddenly a better. He leaned forward and covered the cream with his lips, giving her nose a quick kiss in the process. Then she stood on tiptoe and kissed him again, but somehow it was far more in keeping with the tone he had expected from the evening.

And that was where the second time lead them. They had some wine and used a lot of the whipped cream, took off their clothes by stages and had far more fun with everything. Lips exploring each others' bodies, tickling and giggling and – and this _was_ still unusual for him – chatting. A lot of talking, talking about anything and nothing much.

He learned that she was leaning towards Skadden, since Skadden himself was the one she would be working for. As a second secretary, sure ("for now, anyway, he'll soon realise he only needs one if she's me"), but for a managing partner. A pretty big deal. Harvey said Skadden had no idea what was coming for him, but he felt a jealous twinge in his chest.

He told her all about what had happened with Cameron. He said that he had her to thank, and also told her about getting his father's advice. He found himself telling her about his family, although he didn't go into details about why his parents were no longer together. He offhandedly mentioned that his father would probably really like her and that was when he felt his first true shudder of panic.

Luckily she had been pouring more wine at the time and didn't notice.

The night stretched on, long and lazy and pleasant, smooth caresses and casual kisses, bringing each other to completion with hands and lips and tongues.

x x x

They had gone to bed at around two, intending on getting some sleep. She had a meeting with Skadden at nine the following morning. However, lying naked beside each other in her dark cool bedroom had simply awoken something of what had happened on his arrival.

He had started it, that last time, so he had only himself to blame.

He had leaned forward and kissed her neck softly, unable to resist. Then she had kissed him warmly on his mouth and things had escalated from there into something so deeply and emotionally connected that he had felt close to tears at the end. _Close to fucking tears_. And it was from about that point that things had spiralled dramatically away from the happiness that had been permeating the evening.

There had been too much eye contact.

He realised with a start that he was falling in love with her, and hard.

x x x

The whole debacle with Cameron had shaken things up between himself and Donna over the past couple of days.

They had fought, he had been an asshole … but he had also learned how much her opinion mattered to him. He had been hurt and angry when she had criticised him, and then he had been too afraid to see her disappointment in him, terrified at the very notion that she may come to dislike, even hate him. And then she had come to the rescue anyway and had made him realise the kind of lawyer, the kind of _person_ he truly wanted to be.

Which was, quite simply, the kind of person she might be proud of.

He felt warm when he remembered her eyes widening in surprise and pleasure after he told her he had turned over the toxicology report. The only other person in the world whose good opinion meant this much to him was his father.

Speaking of whom, Harvey still felt sick about everything that had happened between his parents. Oddly, the thing that stood out the most clearly was the memory of his father assuring him that when you meet "the one", you just _know_. And yet, all along, the one he had thought of as the one had been …

It was all so messy and confusing. And now, here he was, lying in bed with someone that his chest was very firmly telling him was "the one" and he felt fucked up and terrified. He wasn't ready for something like _this_. In fact, he was pretty certain that _this_ was something he had long ago decided was not for him at all.

His life was the law, and he intended on keeping it that way. He understood the law, he was good at it and he truly loved it. He had decided to dedicate his life to it, knowing full well that in that world he would always be in control.

Although this time, he almost hadn't been. He had almost lost his way, and the only reason he hadn't was the woman currently lying in his arms. He felt conflicted, like he was viewing his life in two completely different ways. For the last few weeks, he had been almost relentless in his pursuit of her. He hadn't thought of much else, but then again, he hadn't exactly thought this through properly either.

Where was he going from here? To Jessica, obviously. But the thought of carrying on with his career in law _without_ Donna seemed wildly incongruous. How could he be sure he wasn't losing sight of who he wanted to be without her? He had become so used to having her there, running even the most trivial of things by her, laughing and joking through the day. The thought of her going to fucking Skadden enraged him.

And for what? _Love_?

The sick terror in his chest right now told him enough to know that love simply wasn't going to work. Not for him.

And he thought, through his fog of exhaustion and dizziness, that he wasn't going to lose her, lose this, because of something as traitorous as love.

x x x

Her alarm chirped irritatingly less than two hours after he had finally drifted off. She reached out to turn it off and then she pressed into his arms, her lips landing briefly on his chest. Automatically he pulled her to him affectionately and kissed her hair. It took a few happy moments before the creeping fear of the night made its appearance again. He let out a breath and checked to make sure that he wasn't actually trembling.

She rolled back slightly so that she could give him a sleepy smile.

"Hi," he said softly, trying to memorise this.

She mumbled something incomprehensible and then pulled unceremoniously away from him. He felt the coldness of her departure acutely as he watched her pull on a robe and head out the bedroom door, something about coffee falling from her lips. He half sat up and then leaned his head back against the wall.

He took a few deep breaths and focused on his decision from the night before. His clarity had calmed him and it was doing so now.

She was back, placing his coffee on the nightstand beside him.

"Thanks," he said, giving her a smile.

"Sure," she replied lightly. "I'm going to shower and then I need to get going. I have to be there early."

He nodded, biting back the offer to join her. He didn't think he could take experiencing her like that again, knowing that it would be the last time. Better, he thought, _not_ to know the last time was the last time.

He sipped on the hot coffee … delicious (Kenyan, she told him later) and then got out of bed. He dressed slowly and then wandered into the kitchen. He raided her fridge, but she didn't have much. He made them some toast and a second batch of coffee. She reappeared, neatly dressed, but no make-up yet. He had to bite back a comment on how beautiful she looked.

"Oh, toast," she said with a grin. "So fancy."

"Well, barring the ability to summon ingredients from thin air, this is as fancy as I could get," he retorted. "You need groceries."

"I've been busy," she said airily, swallowing a mouthful. "My boss is a real pain in the ass."

He snorted.

They both chewed on their toast in relative silence, too sleepy for much conversation. Harvey was busy contemplating whether or not he should bring up his idea, but he thought he had better talk to Jessica before he made any promises. Plus, it seemed like a bad idea to bring it up now.

Best to give them both some breathing room and then meet again on neutral ground.

After the toast was done, she said apologetically, "I'm sorry to boot you out like this, but I have to make myself presentable."

He was biting back so many words.

"No problem," he said, arranging his face into an easy smile.

They went out into the living room so that they could find his jacket and shoes. His eyes were dry and sticky and burning from lack of sleep.

Somehow they were at the door now and he was fully dressed and ready to go. How had that happened so quickly?

He smiled at her. He felt such affection for her, but he could also feel the almost rabid passion in his chest. Not to mention an accompanying hollow feeling in knowing that this was it.

He couldn't resist just one last sweet kiss though.

"I'll see you?" she asked, but it wasn't really a question.

"You'll definitely see me," he assented.

Their goodbye had none of the weight he felt it needed, but maybe that was for the best. Because, in the end, the whole point of this was that he would never have to say goodbye to her again.

x x x

 **Author's Note:** Well? Too much? I try very hard to keep characters in character, so I'm on the fence about this … but the truth is that after everything that has transpired in the last couple of seasons, I've come to think that maybe it makes much more sense that The Other Time actually meant a lot more to Harvey than it seemed to. But anyway, thanks so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	5. Chapter 5 S05E01 Denial

LIKE THIS CHAPTER 5

 **Author's Note:** Thanks again for your reviews; they are much appreciated! This is just some insight into what Harvey was feeling on losing Donna. Like most fans, this was a very upsetting time for me, so there will probably be a fair few chapters devoted to this whole travesty. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

 **S05E01 Denial**

There were so many things that Donna's departure had ruined for him. Quite apart from thoroughly extracting all joy he had in arriving at work or hearing his schedule or needing some administrative task done or _anything_ that made his instinct want to call out, "Donna!" … or anything that he knew she would have come to him about even though he didn't want to hear it, except he really did, like, "Congratulate Mike on getting engaged and stop being a jerk, Harvey". But that was the _Big Thing_ , the thing that dominated the sick empty blackness now residing in his stomach, the loss of her thereness, because that thereness was always a net of warmth and smiles and friendship and safety and _love_ , even though the thought of that word currently made him want to break things.

But then there were all the other things. Mostly small things, actually, things he would never even have considered. Things like his favourite coffee cart near his building, because the guy there had been so charmed by Donna over the years that he always asked after her. Or that teal tie that was one of his favourites, but she had given it to him as a Christmas gift once. Or that purple tie he liked that she hated, because she always mocked him about it. Almost all of his ties, actually. There was the scotch in his office, a shared favourite that he now had to change, and there was the Kenyan coffee in his kitchen cupboard that she had insisted he buy about five years ago, consequently getting him hooked on the brand.

The stupid cactus she had brought him … before she left, he had been caring for it in spite of himself, without really thinking about it. He had even looked it up online in order to find out how often it needed watering. A Fairy Castle Cactus … he liked that. Now it sat there, daring him on a daily basis to let it die. At first, after she had left, he had stopped acknowledging it altogether, but then changed his mind after three days with his continued determined conviction that she would be back. By the time he had begun to accept the fact that there was a chance she wouldn't, watering the stupid thing had become a habit. He didn't dwell on the reasons behind this, but it was enough to put him in a mood, especially if they had had a recent confrontation.

There was her mug in the kitchen at the firm that ensured he never went back in there, the sight of a billboard announcing a new show she loved, the bag of gummy bears at the convenience store, any fucking can opener, on and on and on. He couldn't believe the vast array of things that assaulted him on a daily basis, things that constantly frayed his nerves.

He was stuffed when it came to watching TV as well. He was hyper sensitive to any displays of affection in shows, even ones he didn't usually watch, so he didn't watch anything except Seinfeld and sports. Movies he managed, as long as they weren't ones she had liked (unfortunately eliminating most of his favourites) and did not involve much personal interaction – limiting him to trashy action and sci-fi movies, but that was all right, he was usually a bit drunk anyway if he had chosen to stay home alone and watch movies.

And anyway, it was nothing, _nothing_ , when compared to the horror of being unable to listen to music.

He had been through something similar when his father had died. Movies, sports, music … he had been unable to listen to his father's own music for over a year after the funeral, and had found a fair number of his usual artists unbearable. But the difference was that most of Harvey's memories of his dad had been far away, the music only the music of his youth and anyway, there was a fair amount of even that music that had come to mean something else to him as he grew older. His father had not permeated every fucking aspect of his everyday life.

It seemed to him that every record he owned reminded him of Donna. They had had too many years of working through the night and listening to music in his office for that not to be the case. She had helped him track down a large number of his records, had ruined and then replaced a couple, and had listened to, or at least commented on, virtually all the rest. He was horrified at how many of her comments he had retained without even realising it. "Ooh, I love this one," or "Danced to this at my first school dance, my stupid date couldn't lead to save his life" or "Boring track, I'd skip it if I had a remote".

The problem, he had thought furiously one night while glowering at his collection, was that they had altogether too similar a taste in music, so there were very few records that were unsullied by her company in some manner. He wasn't even safe listening to the ones she hadn't been a fan of, because then he just remembered the times they had argued over her unacceptable (in his opinion) opinions on the matter (I mean, who the fuck doesn't like James Brown, anyway - an argument that had spanned years and yet in all that time, she had never actually told him why she didn't like him, only that she didn't, which made no sense considering her general love of the music Harvey held so dear, and so he had never been able to let that go, and then there was Nat King Cole, who, while hardly in Harvey's top tier, still deserved some respect, but who she just dismissed as "depressing as hell").

Worst of all (he had thought at first) was that he couldn't even go near his father's music. This brought brutally intense memories, because she truly loved it and had her own favourite tracks (her absolute favourite had also been his father's favourite, although he had never told her that). But there was more to it than that. She had been the one who had finally played it again in his office over a year after the funeral, somehow sensing the perfect moment to bring the music back into his life.

He still remembered the first time he had played her the music, shortly after they had come to work at Pearson Hardman. They had been working for hours and had finally taken a break to order a pizza.

"Have I ever played you some of my dad's music?" he had asked, knowing full well that he hadn't.

"Not that I can think of," she had said lightly, although he supposed she knew just as well as he did.

He had loaded the record player in the little office with one of his favourites, and as the soft music of home filled the room, she had leaned back in her seat with her eyes closed and listened. He remembered the tiny smile on her face and also remembered the rush of affection he had felt for her in the moment, one he had had to repress quite fiercely since _that night_ had still been relatively recent.

She hadn't really said much about it, other than, "Can we listen to another one?", but she hadn't needed to. Donna, despite her constant need to talk about pretty much everything, also had an innate and accurate sense of when words were not needed. They had listened to all the records he had that night, Donna eventually dozing off around dawn. It was one of his favourite memories and now it was ruining his life.

But it got worse. Because suddenly even music he didn't care about would pop out of nowhere, and would manage to destroy his mood in one single phrase thrown out in just the right tone to pierce right into his stomach.

The first time it had happened had probably also been the thing that had sensitised him to it. It had been maybe a week after she had left, possibly more (it was a dark and fuzzy time). He had just started taking the anxiety medication and maybe it had been a bad idea to go out for a drink, especially since he had been slightly overzealous and taken two tablets instead of one. But he had felt that stupid cactus staring at him, and his breath catching in his throat, so he had gone off to a quiet little bar he didn't frequently visit. He was halfway through his second drink, his mind miles away, when a faint nagging was bringing him back to reality. Like a warning.

 _The time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars –_

He had jerked back to the present and was now staring up at the speaker above his head in a kind of furious disbelief at the universe daring to play this ridiculous song at him, _now_ …

 _And then I go and spoil it all by saying –_

God, make it stop, he was on his feet, hand gripping the glass, stop it.

 _Something stupid like I love you –_

He had thrown his glass against the back wall in a strange blind range and then stalked out, feeling heady and short of breath, the words searing into his mind over and over again.

 _Something stupid_

 _Spoil it all_

 _I love you_

 _Then I go and spoil it all_

 _By saying something stupid like_

 _I love you._

He had vomited behind some bins in the alley next to the bar, not sure if he was sick from mixing the pills with alcohol, or having a panic attack, or both. His head had been buzzing furiously, though, so he had gone home and collapsed onto his bed fully dressed and slept for ten hours, that song playing continuously in his mind, the soundtrack to all his dreams. After that, he had been much more careful about only taking one pill in the morning, so that it wouldn't interact too badly with a drink in the evening. He also officially decided that Frank Sinatra could suck it.

He had neglected to mention this incident to his psychiatrist and knew it was a memory that he would take to his grave.

But now he wasn't safe anywhere. Car radios, music in bars, in stores, in coffee shops and restaurants, soundtracks … he was taken aback by how much music was out there, just waiting to pounce, music he had never even paid the slightest attention to. Music he didn't even _like_ , pop songs, crappy songs that still, somehow, had the power to change his mood like flicking a switch.

x x x

Songs that made him remember, remember from the beginning …

 _What were all those dreams we shared …_

 _Those many years ago_

Years, centuries ago. When they had been a team. A pang.

… _I am young, I am yours …_

Who had belonged to who, in the end?

 _I am in your heart; I was here from the start ..._

Fuzzy drugged out brain, trying to remember when she hadn't been.

 _more than friends I always pledged_

' _cause friends they come and go …_

Except she had gone now, too, despite everything, everything …

 _I wanna be, wanna be whatever else that touches you_

Too much alcohol … always right before he passed out on his bed, while the world was still spinning and small pops of pain emerged from his numbness, when he felt all the intensity of how much he wanted to be a part of her, like she was of him. She was everything, everything … darkness closed in, nothing but dreams.

 _From the start, you were set apart_

He had known, always known, that she would be important.

 _Then she appeared, out of nowhere … I was a little dazzled_

She dazzled everyone and he hadn't been exempt.

 _You make me live_

She did.

 _You're my best friend_

She was.

 _Queen of my heart_

Shut the fuck up.

x x x

But the deluge never stopped.

 _Nothing stays the same, everything will break_

Jab to the heart, no, no, no, a scramble to change the channel.

 _This is the way you left me …_

Around and around in his head this song went, so repetitive, refusing to be ignored, making him chew on his tongue in frustration, anger, heartache.

 _You run away …_

Betrayal.

 _Promises, promises, turn to dust._

Bitterness.

 _All that you rely on will leave you_

 _Terror._

 _Trust into distrust._

Resentment.

 _I need a little time …_

Maybe he did. Why was that so wrong?

 _Tongue so sharp_

He ignored the guilty twinge.

' _cause you loved her too much and you dived too deep_

That had earned his radio alarm a violent punch that had effectively ended its life.

 _I cannot get you out …_

Always, she was there. Haunting his emotions.

 _Missing home_

Yearning.

 _harder to feel this way._

Exhaustion.

 _Worth the pain …_

x x x

He recognised that he was spiralling. He tried for more tablets. Sleeping tablets were what he wanted the most, something that would shut it all out. Give him silence. But always, she said no. Anti-anxiety tablets she would give him, but not the sleeping tablets.

So he tried his classic methods of working too much, being as pissed off as possible as much of the time as possible and otherwise simply barrelling his way through his life until he eventually collapsed into bed, drained of vigour, Scotch in hand.

But eventually, no matter how hard he fought to ignore it all, no matter how angry he got or how hard he worked or how many pills he took, the words would always find him again, when he was at his most vulnerable. When he had had too much to drink or when he was just drifting into sleep again or when he felt that undeniable dread that heralded the onset of a panic attack …

x x x

 _people change, as does everything-_

 _it hasn't felt like home …_

 _I miss you more_

 _I have given less than you deserve …_

 _digging a hole, walls are caving in around me_

 _air's getting thin …_

 _Come find me_

x x x

 **Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! I really wanted to write this to show Harvey's perspective of dealing with what essentially felt to him like a terrible break up or a divorce, and for me music is always a huge part of that kind of thing. And also a way to show how he escalated to the point he was at six weeks after Donna left when he finally admitted the truth to Dr Agard. Because he really looked completely emotionally battered by that point. Anyway, I'd love to hear your thoughts!


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